


My Body's a Warzone, but Baby, You're My Home

by ViolentAddict



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Say by Demi inspired this fic, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky and Tony Still Don't Get Along, Bucky/Steve - Freeform, M/M, Oneshot, PTSD, Slightly Triggery, Trust is Important, mentions of noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7619992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentAddict/pseuds/ViolentAddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, Bucky's a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at any minute. He's not sure if he scares Steve, or if he scares the others, but he sure as hell knows that he scares himself...</p><p>Or the fic where the author listened to 'Body Say' by Demi Lovato and got inspired. Wherein Bucky needs comfort, Steve's there to give it to him, and they both learn what it means to trust.</p><p>Warning: Bucky has some not so pleasant flashbacks, please, read with caution. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Body's a Warzone, but Baby, You're My Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I want to first start this off by saying that though this oneshot may not be A/B/O, it doesn't mean I'm done with my Omegaverse Stucky series. It's just on hold until I find more time to write it and continue where I left off. ;) 
> 
> I was listening to Body Say by Demi and the idea to write this just struck me. I want to thank my betas Flip and Deejaymil for the much needed help on this fic, I mean it guys. I don't know what this fic would be without your help. And most importantly, I want to thank you guys, the readers, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you! 
> 
> I am honored you clicked this story and I hope you enjoy.

_"If my body had a say, I'd get it off my chest_

_If my body had a say, I wouldn't turn away_  
_Touch, make love, taste you_  
_If my body told the truth, baby I would do_  
_Just what I want to_ "

\- 'Body Say' Demi Lovato

* * *

Bucky Barnes is okay with a lot of the things that come with living at the Tower. Some things, however, are just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty cake. 

 

He doesn’t mind having to sit through Avenger meetings with Tony Stark in the room, although it’s a little hard to believe anything the man says. He doesn’t mind living in the Tower with the others, because they respect boundaries and treat each other like a family -  a strange, but close-knit one that feels sort of natural to him.  He doesn’t even mind, in the early hours of the morning, bumping into Natasha when she comes down to assist him in the kitchen. He’s always struggling to make coffee with the bizarre machine they have. Sure, he doesn’t ask her to, but it’s as if she has this sense when he’s screwing up to come in and help him.

 

He has a right to his boundaries, and he has a lot of them. He can admit that. When you work for Hydra involuntarily, where your body and mind aren’t your own for so long, finally getting your autonomy back means you aren’t going to just let someone fuck it all up. 

 

As the days pass, he feels more and more like his old self. Sometimes, however, he feels like a ticking time bomb. On bad days, he’s cranky and bitter, not wanting to talk or be talked to.

 

After he’d nearly crushed the archer’s hand when he’d tried to touch Bucky’s shoulder, which was really just a bad idea, period, Bucky was just having one of those days where it felt as if everyone was out to get him. He’d overheard Tony, fed up with the incident, arguing with Steve later that day over having him stay any longer. Steve had succeeded in reasoning with Tony, but that didn’t lessen Bucky’s anxiety or hurt.

 

Clint, the archer, had forgiven him, but the damage had already been done. Bucky still feels bad about it, especially since Clint’s recovery has two more weeks left and Natasha can’t look Bucky in the eye without frowning. 

 

He knows what he is. A weapon of mass destruction; a  _ human _ weapon, if he can even still be called human. Steve’s out of his mind if he thinks any of this  _ domestication _ will work.

 

Bucky may have elements of the friend that Steve remembers, but he isn’t the same person. Not by a longshot. 

 

Which is why when he’d kissed Steve on the fourth of July, totally surprising the both of them, he’d felt like the world’s most enigmatic asshole. It had been such a long time since he’d had these feelings for Steve. He just had to get them out. It had been the only thing he thought to do.  He’d expected to be rejected and told to leave the Tower immediately, but Steve instead had a look in his eyes as if he’d been waiting his whole life for it. A look that Bucky had suspected matched his own. Steve had pressed his soft but firm lips to his, strong fingers holding Bucky’s chin in place and careful tongue seeking permission. He’d tasted like more than Bucky had expected; he tasted like liberation.

 

It’s been three months since that day. The day they’d started this whole confusing relationship-thing. Though Bucky secretly loves every minute of getting to kiss Steve whenever he wants, (and the burning glares Tony throws their way)  it’s not  _ all _ he wants. 

 

He wants  _ more _ . He wants to know what it’s like to feel Steve’s warm skin on every inch of his body, to know what it’s like to see him when he begins to lose control, giving into the throes of passion. To know what Steve sounds like when he’s completely gone. 

 

But he also wants to connect with him, like they never could have before.

 

If kissing Steve was out of this world, he can only imagine what it’s going to be like to go to the next level. Although he doesn’t think he’s ready to surrender himself to Steve just yet. He may want to, but he’s not naive enough to think that his body is going to act right, or that he’s not going to get flashbacks and want to fight them. He doesn’t want to hurt Steve.

 

Bucky is so caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at the paint on the wall behind Steve’s head until he hears the other man calling his name.

 

“Buck, you alright?” Steve is frowning, he’s looking at Bucky as if he has gone to another planet. A hand reaches out to hold Bucky’s own. “Stuck in your head again?”

 

“Yeah.” He tries to smile, but he can tell it probably comes off all disjointed and awkward. Still, he doesn’t pull his hand away from Steve’s.

 

Eyes darkening with even more concern, Steve asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Bucky can’t hold his boyfriend’s searching gaze, so he just stares down at his untouched breakfast. “No, I’m okay. Trust me?” His delivery is casual, easy. But it’s definitely the wrong choice of words because Steve’s brow furrows.

 

“Always,” Steve says matter of factly.  “Buck?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Out of all the shit that happens - has happened. Do  _ you _ trust  _ me _ ?”

 

It’s an odd question, but Bucky thinks really hard on it. “Of course, Stevie and I mean that.”  _ It’s just me that I don’t trust… _

 

Steve doesn’t seem any less worried. “You know that I would never do anything to hurt you. And that I will always go out of my way to keep you safe and comfortable. And I know that we’ve been in this relationship for a while, but understand that that doesn’t give me the right to cross the line. If there is ever a time where I do, stop me. I won’t ask questions or complain or-”

 

Suddenly, he sees Rumlow, crowding round him, trailing his rough fingers across Bucky’s arms, his throat, his face. His hot breath ghosts across Bucky’s neck.  The heady scent of sweat and sex fills his nostrils. He feels paralyzed, frightened, trapped in the invisible cage around his body and mind-- 

 

The vision clears when Steve’s soft voice calls his name again, snapping him out of the memory.

 

“Bucky?”

 

“I need some air,” he says, rising from his seat and heading towards the elevator before Steve can say anything else.

 

* * *

He comes back from his impromptu jog, lungs burning and body glistening with sweat. Heading to their bathroom for a shower, Bucky listens but doesn’t hear anyone else in the Tower. He figures that Steve possibly went out with the others or fell asleep. Hoping to avoid Steve, because he really can’t explain his behavior from this morning, Bucky tries to be as quick as possible.

 

He’s stepping out of the shower and towelling off in his and Steve’s shared bathroom when he hears footsteps pad across the floor of the adjoining bedroom. 

 

“Bucky?” Steve calls. 

 

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky doesn’t make it two feet out before Steve has him wrapped in his strong arms. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he says against Bucky’s hair. “I don’t know what happened today, but if space is what you need, then you’ll get it.”

 

Affection rises in Bucky’s chest, foreign but nonetheless tender and inviting. He smiles,  “Steve I-I don’t know what to say.”

 

“You don’t have to say anything, Buck.” He kisses Bucky’s hair, releasing the other man from his hold. “I told you, I want you to feel safe and comfortable.”

 

“But I do.”

 

Steve halts. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” He leans up and presses his lips to Steve’s. “You’re the best, Stevie. I just get lost in my head sometimes, that’s all.”

 

Steve clears his throat and looks away for a mere second, and when his eyes meet Bucky’s, they shine with renewed ardor. “Well, I’m here. You don’t have to do it alone, okay pal?”

 

Bucky smiles and nods his head. 

 

Steve smiles back. “You’re never alone, Buck, not anymore.”

* * *

“Do you trust me?” Steve asks, voice husky from his desire. He’s above Bucky,  both of them naked, panting, breathless. Bucky knows they haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. He’s already desperate to have Steve inside him.

 

He’s ready. He knows that. There’s no other person on earth that he trusts more than Steve. If there was ever a right time to show him that, it’s now.

 

“God, Steve yes!” Bucky leans his head back and closes his eyes, covering his face with his flesh hand and fisting the sheets with the metal one. Frustrated, but so, so grateful for this wonderful man that he gets to love. Loves, trusts, and wants. “I trust you.”

 

“I want to see your face,” Steve says.

 

Bucky’s eyes snap open and he moves his hand from his face, his gaze meeting Steve’s. Spurred on by the enchanting spell that Steve has over him he says,  “I swear to God if you don’t fuck me, I’ll leave this bed and you’ll just have your hand tonight.” 

 

Steve laughs, pressing his lips to Bucky’s. It’s sloppy and eager but so, so perfect. He lines himself up, torturously slow, and Bucky wills himself to relax, allowing himself to concentrate and memorize every detail of this moment. Steve’s soft panting, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the blunt pressure of his cock breaching his entrance, Steve whispering praises to him.

 

When he’s finally full, he tries to move experimentally, but Steve stops him. “Hold on,” he says, gripping Bucky’s hips. Kissing Bucky’s pouting lips, he says,  “I don’t want to hurt you, but this feels so much better than I could have ever imagined. You gotta give me a minute.”

 

“I’m not made of glass,” Bucky says, beaming and feeling his whole body flush red. Steve’s imagined this? Them together just as Bucky has? But the dulling pain of the stretch soon gets his attention. The sting is muted and slowly melting into pleasure, but still present; a backseat reminder that they need to be careful. 

 

Until Steve, apparently ready, angles his hips and hits this spot in Bucky that sends an electric jolt sparking through his body. It pulses through him, igniting his blood and lighting up every nerve. His toes curl, crying out, “F-fuck, p-please do that again!” 

 

Steve has the most shit eating grin on his face. “What? You mean this?” he asks, and hits that pleasure spot without missing a beat. 

 

And Bucky shudders. “Yes, asshole.” There’s no steam behind it.

 

Bucky doesn’t remember Steve deciding to pick up the pace, but he’s glad that he did. He doesn’t even care that he’s being loud. Steve doesn’t seem to particularly care either. 

 

And it’s like he’s floating through the clouds when he feels that old, familiar feeling of reaching his climax. He’s lost, in another world where only Steve and he exist. Steve comes shortly after he does, but Bucky doesn’t let him pull out just yet. He leans in to press his forehead against Steve’s, meets Steve’s blue eyes with his ice grey-blue ones, and just smiles.

 

It was well worth the wait.

 

* * *

“You have to trust me.” Steve has his hands shielding Bucky’s eyes and is adamantly not letting Bucky peek.

 

_ You have to trust us…. his handler says. He clenches down on the mouth guard, closes his eyes and it feels as if his head is exploding, tearing itself into a million pieces, he screams but the pain doesn’t stop. Nothing ever seems to make it stop...  _ The memory bleeds in and Bucky lets it, patiently waiting for it to fade. “Always, Stevie,” he says, because he can say it. No one is forcing him to. This is all his will.  That earns him a kiss on the cheek, and Steve finally letting him in on the big secret.

 

And Bucky is confused. They’re standing inside an empty apartment. “Welcome home.” Steve says, with the biggest grin on his face.

 

Bucky Barnes is not a cryer, but on this day he is damn near close to being a mess in front of Steve. He steps closer, taking a long look around. Home? He gets to have a home with Steve?

 

“I love you.” Steve admits, wrapping his strong arms around Bucky. “Out of all the memories you have in that beautiful mind of yours, I just want to be the one that makes you happy. You like it?”

 

Bucky is speechless. It takes him several seconds before he says anything. “I don’t see how I couldn’t.” He blinks, completely blown away. Then he grins like the luckiest, happiest, guy on earth. “I love you,” he says, and like everything he says to Steve, he means it with all his heart. The memories are traumatizing, but Steve’s right, Bucky isn’t alone. He’s got his best guy, and now he has a home too.

 

* * *

_ He has clarity again; there is someone else’s sweat on his skin, someone else’s release on him. He’s been used, again. He only seems to be useful when he’s being used, only gets clarity after these moments. _

 

_ Someone returns, but he can’t seem to care. Not when he is so disgusted with himself that he can’t even speak. He can’t say or think the word, but he knows what’s happened, he just doesn’t know how long it’s been happening or wants to know. _

 

_ He feels strong hands press him further against the hard mattress. His lungs burn as they try to take in the dry air, but the room is still stifling. He doesn’t look in this person’s face, he just feels when the person shoves him further down and presses their heavy weight onto his body. It’s almost comical; Bucky couldn’t run even if he wanted to. _

 

_ He takes Bucky, hard and fast and with minimal preparation. It hurts, but then again, everything does these days. When the guy leaves, Bucky has a realization; they don’t have to worry about him dying in missions, or offing himself when he’s back to awareness.  _

 

_ He’s already dead, a ghost of the man he was before.  _

 

He wakes up abruptly, tears streaming down his face. He can’t stop shaking. Someone calls his name and a warm hand touches his bare chest. “Bucky?”

 

“Please, no more,” he begs, seizing the hand in a bruising grip.

 

“Buck, it’s me, Steve.”

 

The name sounds so familiar. Steve? His friend? But how? “Steve?”

 

“Yes, Buck, I’m here.” Steve’s arms wrap around him gingerly and Bucky tries to get a read of his surroundings. The air here is fine, it doesn’t ache to breathe, he’s not hurt or in any amount of pain. It was just a dream. “Steve, I-I think I was dreaming.”

 

“Do want to talk about it?” Steve asks softly.

 

Bucky thinks about it. He doesn’t really let Steve in, but he knows that Steve would never judge him or leave him just because the truth isn’t beautiful.

 

So he spills it all in the early hours of the morning. It feels good to get it off his chest. And Steve, understandably learns to hate Hydra even more, but holds Bucky the whole time, even when Bucky begins to shake so hard he can’t speak, Steve doesn’t let go.

 

Trust, Bucky is learning as he watches Steve make coffee while he scrambles the eggs later that morning, is something that has to be earned. It isn’t something that can be bought or sold. It shouldn’t be forced or coerced with fear or power. Natural trust is better than artificial trust. 

 

And Bucky trusts Steve. Sure, he knows that there will be times when Steve will make mistakes, or he will make mistakes, but the best part is they have the rest of their lives to figure it out. 

 

And that, he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ;)


End file.
